(no subject)
A Not True Love Story
I was talking with an old friend tonight. I only talk to him when I am feeling especially down on myself. He has a way of calling me on those days and asking what's wrong, even if we haven't talked for 6 months. I love that about us. He zips in and zips out of my life so quickly but so repeatedly, that I never tire of him or make a fool out of myself in front of him, so in his mind, I am the perfect woman living gloriously upon the pedestal he has placed me. I like to hang out there. He believes that I exude sexuality. His words, not mine. I laugh at him, and since I have not had sex in a year now, I must be exuding the lack of. He tells me I'm beautiful. I tell him that's he only thinks that because he's never had to hold my hair while I puke. He tells me I'm funny, I tell him I'm bitter. He tells me I can be and do anything I want, that I will always be perfect. I tell him I'm a child and I can't accomplish a god damn thing. He tells me I'm just resting. I tell him I've given up. He says that he would take care of me. I say he would only end up hating me.
He says he loves me.
I say he loves an illusion.
But I like hanging out on this pedestal. This dream cloud of ideas. I like that he doesn't know the truth and that he doesn't want to. As much as I like hanging out on the pedestal, he loves it even more. He needs me to be the girl I was when I was 20, still with perky boobs and no lines on my face. He needs to rescue me when i am down. We both live in fantasy worlds and I can accomodate that just so long as I still have that pedestal.
I was talking with an old friend tonight. I only talk to him when I am feeling especially down on myself. He has a way of calling me on those days and asking what's wrong, even if we haven't talked for 6 months. I love that about us. He zips in and zips out of my life so quickly but so repeatedly, that I never tire of him or make a fool out of myself in front of him, so in his mind, I am the perfect woman living gloriously upon the pedestal he has placed me. I like to hang out there. He believes that I exude sexuality. His words, not mine. I laugh at him, and since I have not had sex in a year now, I must be exuding the lack of. He tells me I'm beautiful. I tell him that's he only thinks that because he's never had to hold my hair while I puke. He tells me I'm funny, I tell him I'm bitter. He tells me I can be and do anything I want, that I will always be perfect. I tell him I'm a child and I can't accomplish a god damn thing. He tells me I'm just resting. I tell him I've given up. He says that he would take care of me. I say he would only end up hating me.
He says he loves me.
I say he loves an illusion.
But I like hanging out on this pedestal. This dream cloud of ideas. I like that he doesn't know the truth and that he doesn't want to. As much as I like hanging out on the pedestal, he loves it even more. He needs me to be the girl I was when I was 20, still with perky boobs and no lines on my face. He needs to rescue me when i am down. We both live in fantasy worlds and I can accomodate that just so long as I still have that pedestal.